


Restraint(s)

by TheRedPoet



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Collars, Exhibitionism, F/F, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedPoet/pseuds/TheRedPoet
Summary: Well... It had been a good idea on paper.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 25
Kudos: 230





	Restraint(s)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't quite recall when I had the idea for this story, but I got about half of it done in a single go, and the rest here and there. It wasn't really meant to turn into shameless smut, but nevertheless, here we are.

The collar, dark and made out of leather, clicked shut about her throat with an almost inevitable note of finality and Beauregard’s heart fluttered. She was committed now, trapped, and her pulse raced with an excitement embarrassingly akin to the one she’d gotten from many a stolen kisses in dark corners. Yeah… this might have been a big mistake.

“Is it okay?” Jester asked, moving around with an excess nervous energy and making sure to observe the collar from every possible angle. She gave it an experimental tug.

“S’fine, Jessie,” Beau said, and her voice came out a little rough, for reasons she didn’t want to speculate on.

“You sure? You really, really sure? You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

She’s wasn’t, but then, when could you ever be sure of anything? She wasn’t sure this was the best idea that existed, but it sure as hell was the best idea the Mighty Nein had managed to scrape together. If nothing else, they’d gotten pretty good about improvising shit on the fly when their plans inevitable implode.

“Okay. If you’re, like, entire totally sure. But only if you are!”

Jester wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed. Beau generally wasn’t much of a hugger, but she made an exception for the blue tiefling. It was nice, but a little bit awkward. More so, with Beau wearing a thin thigh length shift, and her friend’s warmth seeping in through the fabric and warming her in ways that were - uh - unexpected.

“Yeah. I’m sure. Come on. Let’s get rolling before I change my mind.”

Jester’s teeth flashed in a wide grin, baring dainty pointed canines and dimpling her cheeks. “If you change your mind you just say ‘Fluffernutter’ and we’ll start punching people, okay?”

Beauregard squeezed her tightly for a few moments longer, then let go, and set off.

For a while, it actually worked like a charm. They passed through the streets of Xhorhas, Beau walking about a foot behind and to the side of Jester and the leash she was holding, heart beating a little faster than their leisurely stroll warranted. As with all plans, it worked until it didn’t.

They’d made their way through the streets, past shops and markets, past orcs and goblins, drow and the odd minotaur and bug bear. She drew a few looks, some disdainful, some leering, but nobody actually bothered them. Not until they reached were a market of local delicacies where the scent of exotic perfumes and spices covered most of the stink of the big city.

“You!” Called an imperious voice from behind them. “Human. Halt!”

Beauregard froze, limbs tense as she readied herself for a fight and turned to face whoever had addressed them.

A drow woman stood before them. She was tall and regal, in a gown of dark silk that plunged low and clung to her generous curves. Her hair was black and bound up in an intricate braid, baring a slender neck and high cheekbones. She had a haughty air about her that was kinda hot and Beau grinned. Nothing better than to bring someone like her down a few notches, preferably by making her come hard enough to wipe that smirk off her face.

Beau found herself taking a step forward. Jester gave her leash a gentle yank, getting ahead of her. 

“Yes?” She said, her voice a little bit too loud. “What do you want?”

The drow woman approached, heedless of Jester’s protective stance. “Oh, I was merely curious about your little pet there. Wherever did you find it?”

Beau knew she should feel angry, because seriously, slavery wasn’t cool. But it wasn’t anger that struck her along with the woman’s words. Instead, a warm flush begin to creep up her throat and to her cheeks. Oh boy.

“Uh.” Jester looked to Beau for help, then caught herself and straightened. “I bought her. As you do with slaves.”

One elegantly cropped dark eyebrow rose at that. “Did you now? Where did you find such a… delectable specimen?”

It took just about everything Beau had not to glare up at the woman. That, or to punch her. Either or. Maybe both.

“That... That’s a secret,” Jester lied. “I know a guy. A - uh - A traveller.”

The drow considered that for a few moments. “Are you quite certain you can’t be persuaded?”

Jesters tail flicked back and forth nervously and she looked down at her mud-spattered boots. “Leave it be, lady,” Beau snapped.

The drow’s gaze slowly turned towards her, and Beau immediately knew she’d fucked up.

“You presume to speak to your betters, slave?” She said, her voice low and dangerous, brimming with a dark amusement.

She stepped in close, slipping a finger in between the collar and Beau’s throat. Her hands looked as smooth as velvet, but there were calluses on her fingers. The drow gave the material a yank to pull her closer until they were mere inches apart. The sensation of the tug sent a flash of heat through Beauregard’s body and it settled to smolder low in her belly.

“Look at me,” she whispered, her voice a purr.

Beau refused, keeping her eyes down, which by happy coincidence let her take in the woman’s low cut dress and what looked to be a pair of spectacular tits. Hey, she had eyes, okay? The drow might be a bitch, but that didn’t have to get in the way of appreciating other parts of her. In this case, tits.

“I said, look at me.” A hand grasped her chin firmly and forced her gaze up. Violet eyes met hers, searching, and they must have found whatever they were looking for, because the drow’s lips turned up in a smile. She turned to Jester once more.

“How much?”

Jester blinked. “What?”

“The slave. How much gold would persuade you to part with her company?”

Jester floundered. “I- I don’t know. She’s - uh - important. No. Useful. Yes, she’s very useful to me, and like, I don’t know if I want to get rid of her just yet, and-”

“Everything has a price,” the drow said, cutting effortlessly across Jester’s babbling. “She is pretty, yes, but there are many pretty things to be bought. Even humans.”

“Well, you see-”

“I see nothing extraordinary about her,” the drow said.

She strolled around Beauregard, inspecting her from every angle the way a butcher might a hog he was interesting in buying off a farmer. It should’ve made her furious to be considered like that, to be demeaned and objectified. It had before, after all, so what was going on now?

Like a great many of their recent troubles, Beau blamed the porn. Particularly, an especially tawdry excuse for a novel called Bound by Fate. The story was about a bored tiefling house-wife with a distant husband who hired a young elven maid to to help maintain the manor. A romance had begun, but things had definitely taken a darker turn past that point, with the inclusion of things like rope, shackles, whips and, oh yes, collars. A few chapters through it, Beauregard had found herself getting uncomfortably excited reading it with Jester, and the book had mysteriously disappeared - straight into her pack. At this point, it was dog-eared and scuffed from many read-throughs.

“Nothing whatsoever,” the drow woman continued. 

“Decent tits.” She gave Beauregard’s breast a firm squeeze, thumb flicking across the taut peak of her nipple where it was now clearly visible through the thin fabric of her shift.

“Pretty good arse.” She gave it a smack that had Beauregard’s breath catch in her throat.

Jester’s eyes were wide with something near panic. She seemed about to protest, or say something, but Beau shook her head, mouthing the word “wait.” Jester frowned, but nodded.

“Does her cunt taste of honey?” The drow wondered, one eyebrow raised at Jester. “Is that why you are so unwilling to part with her?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Beauregard spat.

She was well aware that, at some point, things had escalated way, way past their control. Jester’s cheeks were going purple as she blushed, and her gaze flicked rapidly between the two of them.

For a moment she seemed like she might panic, but then her face brightened with realisation, like someone had whispered a suggestion into her ear. A moment later, her voice echoed through Beauregard’s mind. “Hi. Jester here. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. If you want me to cast Inflict Wounds, I will. You can reply - oh - crap.”

Beau found herself smiling as she got the sending. “It’s okay. Just play along. Don’t be a pushover. You’re a big, bad slaver, remember?”

The drow woman was obviously taken aback by Beau’s words, but she only hesitated for a moment. She stepped in close and drew her hand up along Beau’s thigh. She made a production of it, too, the bitch, slowing down once she closed on her destination. Then she slid a single finger along Beauregard’s sex, and a slow smile spread across the drow woman’s face.

“You’re wet,” she remarked, eyes wide with surprise. The expression only stuck on her face for a moment or two before the haughty, arrogant look returned. The drow slipped the finger inside and the process was embarrassingly easy. “You’re as wet as a whore.”

Beau shuddered, feeling herself clench against the finger, and fighting to not reach out and grab on to the other woman to help with her balance.

“Hey,” Jester protested. “You can’t just - You haven’t bought her yet, so hands off.”

The drow snorted and stepped back, though she made sure to draw her slick fingers along Beau’s clit before doing so, and the contact was enough to prompt a thoroughly undignified whimper. The drow smirked and locked eyes with Jester as she brought her finger to her lips, licking it slowly. The sight was enough for another wave of raw need to pulse through Beauregard. Gods, it wouldn’t have taken much more and she’d have been coming her brains out right then and there on the street.

“Now, then… Is she is for sale?” Some of the drow’s cool demeanour was slipping. There were spots of colour on her pale cheeks, now, and her breathing had picked up.

All her attention was on Jester, and Beau took the opportunity to mouth the words “Big, bad slaver.”

Come on, Jessie. Just tell her to fuck off before I learn more embarrassing shit about myself.

“I don’t know,” Jester said, sounding thoughtful.

Their eyes locked for a moment and Beau gave her friend an emphatic nod to encourage her. Jester straightened a little and it seemed like she was drawing confidence from gesture. Her face set with determination and when she spoke again, her voice was low and sultry, and it did all sorts of unexpected things to Beau just to hear it.

“She’s very, very good,” Jester said, stepping past the woman as if she was beneath her notice. “Why would I want to lose out on her?”

She ran a finger down Beau’s throat and along her clavicle. “Kneel.”

Beauregard didn’t even think, she just did it, never mind the fact that the cobblestones underneath her bare knees were cold and filthy.

“See?” Jester said, and walked around to settle behind Beau. Her arms wrapped around  
Beau’s waist. With their height difference, she could sit on her haunches and lean her chin on Beau’s shoulders. A soft pull, and the tiefling’s breasts were pressing up against Beau’s back, soft and plump. “She’s such a good girl.”

Jester stroked a hand tenderly through Beau’s hair, going against the grain of her undercut, and gods, why the flying fuck was that turning her on almost as much as the drow sticking her fingers up her cunt?

“I can see that,” the drow said, and Beau could tell she was almost as turned on as she was herself. “She clearly needs discipline to break down that willful exterior.”

“Yes,” Jester said solemnly, “and I don’t know if you can handle it.”

The drow stepped in closer, the violet of her eyes barely a glitter in a chip of obsidian now. “What will it cost me to find out?”

“What do you have to offer?”

The drow cast a look over her shoulder - presumably worried some of her peers would see her slumming it - and then licked her lips. “There’s an inn nearby. I have a room. We can discuss matters there.”

“What do you say?” Jester asked, her hot breath tickling Beau’s ear.

She shouldn’t have asked, really. That was definitely why Beauregard ended up saying what she ended up saying. There was no other reason than to continue to sell the act. None whatsoever.

“If it pleases you, mistress.”

She dropped her head in a demure bow and why oh why did it feel so fucking good?

“Oh. Uhm- yes. Of course. Let’s go see that room. Lead the way.”

What they were doing wasn’t entirely out of the bounds of their mission. It probably wasn’t what Caleb and Fjord had envisioned when they all came to the decision of sending Beau and Jester on ahead, but everything about the woman they were dealing with, from her expensive clothes, to her perfume, jewellery and attitude suggested she had money. Probably lots of money. Money meant influence and power, which could be very helpful for them in the weeks to come. Dairon had trained Beauregard too well to burn a bridge that useful.

The drow woman took them to a nearby inn and they walked straight past the fighting pit off in one corner and up the stairs to a large, secluded room at the end of the third floor. The decorations were expensive, but sparing, like a more restrained version of the Lavish Chateau.

Jester beelined for the bed and plopped down on it, bouncing a few times before settling.

The drow woman shut the door and slid the deadbolt in place with a solemn thud. She stood there, hands on her hips, eyes greedily taking in them both.

“Before we make a deal I want to see for myself what your human can do. Show me, slave.”

Beau caught Jester’s eye and tried to get a sense of what her friend was thinking, but it was difficult. Was she nervous or excited? Nervous and excited? How much of each? It wasn’t the kind of thing she was willing to gamble on or make assumptions about, no matter what they might gain. Jester was more important.

Beau went against just about every instinct drilled into her by endless hours of training at the monastery and turned her back to the drow woman, getting down on her knees in front of Jester.

The tieflings eyes were dark and her chest rose and fell distractingly with her quickened breathing.

“Is this okay?” Beau mouthed.

For a moment, Jester considered the question. Then she blushed, and said, her voice calm and cool: “Go ahead, slave.”

The words and the way she said them swept away any lingering doubt or restraint Beau had. She grabbed a pillow off the bed, because kneeling on hard wooden floors for a long time seriously fucking hurt, and set it between Jester’s feet.

”I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll never think about selling me again.”

Beau had to force herself to slow down, but even then, she could only manage so much. With Jester watching her intently she pushed the dress up her legs, hungrily kissing the bare skin being exposed, she couldn’t bring herself to draw it out too much.

Light stubble tickled her lips and cheeks every so often - they’d been out and about for a while now - but Beau didn’t care. She could smell Jester’s arousal and reached for her underwear, pulling the green, lacy and expensive looking material down her legs. She held up the garment for the drow woman to see just how wet her mistress had gotten.

Beauregard peppered kisses along Jester’s trembling thighs, raising her dress as necessary, before finally tasting her.

Beau had been with plenty of women, but never a tiefling. She’d heard all sorts of stories, each more fanciful than the other, about their exotic anatomy. Maybe dude tieflings were different, but Jester wasn’t. Beau took her time, gauging her friends responses and realising she liked it nice and gentle - not too direct.

There was a rustle behind her, followed by a low choked sound, and she was pretty sure the drow woman was touching herself.

She grinned and, at Jester’s soft whine of protest, resumed her duties.

All in all, things could be a lot worse. Jester’s breathing was growing ragged fast, her fingers tangling into Beau’s hair and pulling at it just so. Beauregard could feel her heart hammering in her chest, could feel her own desire smeared along her thighs, and she ached with need. When Jester set her foot down on the pillow, toes curling into the material, she couldn’t help but shift forward and press herself up against her leg, desperate for any possible friction she could get.

It didn’t take long for Jester to get close, because false modesty aside, Beau was actually pretty fucking good at giving head. It began as a tensing of the lean muscles in Jester’s legs and continued into an arching of her spine as she pressed herself against Beau’s lips. That tension built and built, and Beau began to wish she’d laid her friend down on the bed so she could see her face when she exploded, but it was too late for that now. The tension snapped and Jester let out a low, throaty cry as her climax took her.

Jester relaxed slowly and Beau couldn’t help but to draw a few shivery breaths and trembles out of her friend with broad strokes of her tongue.

“That was… Beau, that was amazing-“ she caught herself quickly and cleared her throat. “Though I didn’t expect any less for what I paid for you.”

She took Beau’s chin, directing her gaze up until their eyes met. Beau was sure she that she was blushing horribly, and she knew she was still rutting desperately against Jester’s leg. There was a sparkle in the tieflings eyes, like whenever she had an idea, and Beau found herself pulled upright.

“Come on.”

She let Jester turn her around to face the flushed drow still standing with her back to the wall, face slick with sweat. Jester took Beau by the shoulders and guided her forward until she stood just by the drow. They stood close now, close enough that their lips were almost brushing, close enough that Beau could feel Jester’s eager breath tickle her lips.

Jester put drew her fingers along Beau’s thigh just below the bottom of the shift, and once more her Message spell echoed in her mind.

“Can I touch you? I really wanna.”

Beau didn’t bother responding telepathically, or with restraint, or her stubborn pride. She begged.

“Please. I need you.”

Jester grinned. Her touch was a little tentative, a little clumsy at first, but Beau didn’t give a shit. She had a feeling that the right word, never mind the right touch, might have set her off at this point. As it turned out, after only a few second, Jester found both.

She turned to the drow even as she touched Beau, her expression confident.

“As you can see, my slave is very, very good. Maybe I’ll let you play with her sometime, for a price. But she is mine.”

Beau groaned as the pleasure rose and crested, hips rolling against Jester’s fingers, and she would never, ever, as long as she lived, admit to what she cried out as she came.

“Oh. Mistress. Right there mistress, please.”

Her legs had turned to jelly and she had to cling on to her friend to stay upright. Fucking hell that had been good. Dazed, she looked from Jester to the drow woman.

“We’ll take this room,” Jester said. “We’ll be in town for a while, so you know, maybe you can come visit someday.”

The drow made to speak, faltered, and with a nod to them both she slipped out of the door and disappeared.

Jester waited a moment, listening to her footsteps fade away, and then turned to Beau. She sought her eyes for something, probably confirmation that everything was alright. Beau told her the best way she knew how, leaning in and kissing her.

Things might be a bit weird, but weird wasn’t necessarily bad. Not bad at all.

***

Several blocks away, the drow woman slipped into an inn, and headed upstairs to her room. Once inside she let out a held breath and sank down on the bed. she let the glamour spell fade, and her appearance changed into that of an elf, her head shaved.

Expositor Dairon of the Cobalt Soul stared up at the ceiling. That had escalated way, way out of control.


End file.
